


Bag Of Bones No. 2

by soncnica



Series: kosti!verse [10]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Abused Jensen, Abusive Parents, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Child Abuse, Explicit Language, Gen, Older Jared, Psychologist Jared, Questional Psychological Tactics, Younger Jensen, not really a summer camp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 04:20:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6141304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soncnica/pseuds/soncnica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared hasn't been the psychologist at Camp Gamble long. He always wanted to work with kids - troubled kids - but now it looks like he might be in over his head. Jensen is 16, Jared is 26</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bag Of Bones No. 2

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I seriously only own the grammar/spelling mistakes. Everything else is NOT MINE! ALL IS FICTION.
> 
> PLEASE READ: After a comment I received on a story in this verse, I remembered that I forgot to put an EXTRA WARNING on this verse, so here it is: I, and everyone in the story, are very much aware that what needs to be done in cases like these is call the proper authorities and report the parents. But that being said, as you may have noticed I'm writing this from Jared's and Jensen's POV and no one else's in the story. And as you also may have noticed I'm writing this at snail pace, as in, I'm writing without any time skips or anything like that. So ... you see where I'm going with this!? I can't say what someone else in the story is doing or what will happen next from someone else's perspective. I think everyone reading this will just have to trust me. Thank you! And please if you aren't okay with any of this, please stop reading as I don't want to hurt anyone. That is not the intent of this story. Thank you!

                                                                           

 

Jimmy Cliff's Reggae Night is coming from the speakers that're totally randomly attached to some trees around the camp, and are used mainly for Gen to deliver news and give counselors their assignments or to call the kids into her office and other things, but right now it's music that's coming from them, softly stretching throughout the whole camp site.

Jamie.

He shouldn't've left her alone in Gen's office. But then again, why not? The kids are all working hard, doing what's on the agenda for today, and a little music has never hurt anyone. Quite the opposite ... he read an article that music stimulates, makes people work harder, takes away some of the stress. So, why the hell not? He grins while picking up his step towards Mike's.

There's laughter coming from the lake, splashing of water and screams, but happy screams. There are some god-awful whistling sounds coming from where Luke is teaching the kids how to make whistles from wood. He knows that by the end of the day Luke will be in Mike's office demanding pills for a headache.

The song changes to John Denver's County Roads, and he starts laughing for real now. Oh, Jamie, rocking the sound system. Gen's gonna be so pissed.

He glances briefly towards his own little cabin, wishing for some sleep that doesn't require folding himself into a chair, and he wants to change his clothes, because he's carrying the tears and snot of two kids now on his shoulders, and he'd been walking through the woods yesterday and then had to clean up after Jensen in the bathroom and he just feels dirty, but good dirty, the kind of dirty that comes from a job well done. But still ... he may not reek to himself, but other people might have a problem with him. So maybe take a shower, maybe shave, but, no, damn it, no, because kids come first. Always have, always will. He looks around if there's anyone looking at him and quickly sniffs his armpits. Ugh, sweat, but not unbearable.

Damn it. What he won't give for a hot shower. Fresh underwear. Fresh shirt. A comb through his hair.

Maybe? Just a quick one? Five minutes ... could he? Mike's with the kids, Gen's sleeping, Jamie's taking care of entertainment, the camp looks peaceful enough and okay, maybe he just jinxed everything by thinking that, but ... a really quick shower won't hurt anyone.

He longs his strides and is by his cabin in no time. He hasn't been inside in days, so when he opens the door the stale air almost brings him to his knees, but no time for that. He opens the window a crack, picks up a light blue t-shirt, pants and fresh underwear, looks for a towel and soap and is standing under the warm, heavy spray of water in seconds. He loves Gen for giving him his own cabin with a shower, while everyone else has to use the showers in the, as kids so lovingly described it, 'shit and shower' cabin.

Kids. They really _do_ have a name for everything.

He soaps up, washes off and grimaces at the brown filth that's swirling under his feet and going down the drain. Damn, but he'd been dirty.

There's no time to dry his hair, so he just towels it off best he can and lets it curl up however it wants. He can't reason with it no matter if he dries or not, so what would be the point. The heat outside will dry it all quickly anyway.

He steps out to the hot mid-morning air to the sounds of Brian Adams' Summer of 69' and he shakes his head. Jamie, Jamie, Jamie. She's a cool chick, when she isn't accusing him of being a freak, but ah, comes with the job and stuff.

But at least he's feeling better, fresh and in a weird way, more awake too. He smells better and he can actually see his skin now and not a layer of dirt. It's always a surprise, even if it shouldn't be, not after twenty-six years, just how much a shower can improve a person's well-being. But it does. He feels energized, ready to tackle anything thrown his way. He feels high on adrenaline, he feels invigorated, he feels like he can deal with the kids and the 'adults' here. He feels like who he is.

He opens the door to Mike's cabin to the last beats of the song.

"So I hear Jamie's in Gen's office, care to explain?"

Well, that takes away some of his good mood, but damn if he'll let anyone or anything block him and the way he's feeling.

"Uh, yeah, 'bout that, uh, maybe you should go check on your wife."

Mike's eyes narrowing like that means nothing good and he steps back a bit.

"What did you do?"

The accusation stings.

"Dude, what the hell? Why does everyone keep on accusing me of doin' somethin'? I didn't do anything, just ... go to Gen and you'll see."

"I swear Jared..."

"Mike, go to her."

The tension leaves Mike so visibly; it's almost painful to watch.

"Okay, okay ... uh, Jensen's with Marcus, the kid's asleep. Leave him sleep, okay?"

He nods.

"Okay," Mike walks towards him and he flinches when the guy puts a hand on his shoulder, "I, uh ... look, Gen loves you, she trusts you, fuck, sometimes more than she does me and I know you and uh ... sorry, just ... you're a good guy."

"Mike, just go to her, okay?"

He grins which diffuses the awkwardness and saves Mike from well, everything awkward that that particular conversation could bring. Sometimes dealing with adults is so much harder than dealing with kids.

"Yeah, I'll be back."

"Sure."

And then he's left alone. He washes his hands down his face and smiles, because dude, this is a really strange day.

-:-

He hesitates by the open door to the room. He can see Jensen's back where he's sitting on the same chair that he slept in last night, he can see Marcus asleep in the bed and he looks tiny. The bed isn't really all that much, but the kid looks like the bed ate him alive. Just like last night when Jensen had been occupying it. He's seriously starting to suspect the bed is a child eater.

-:-

He looks down at his feet. He wants to scream. He actually feels like screaming. Just watching these two boys, each in their own little world of fucked up, struggling through a fucked up life ... it's not fair for this crap to happen to good kids, because Marcus is a good kid. It's not his fault that his mother had been a drug addict, it isn't his fault he'd been born, nothing is his fault, he's just trying to go through life best he can. The kid is all alone, no siblings, no other family members, but his adoptive parents, but that's not blood. He probably has no friends in the town where he lives, people probably avoid him, probably never talk to him, take the time to get to know him, get to see what a good, smart kid he is. He's scared of what high school's gonna bring to the kid, because kids are like wild animals there; they can smell weakness from miles away. He hopes Marcus will be able to cope, but in a very deep, deep corner of his mind he knows that high school will eat the kid alive.

Sometimes he feels as if whatever he does or says, it's all hopeless, because other people just walk all over whatever progress he makes with the kids. But then again, some kids are just not strong enough. It's the brutal truth … one he learned years ago.

He clears his throat, trying not to startle Jensen and steps into the room.

"Hey Jensen." he whispers because he doesn't want to wake Marcus up. He'll talk to Jensen first, then send him to whatever fun thing he should be doing, then sit with Marcus until Mike will be back and then go talk to Gary.

It will be a long, long day, but at least he has a plan. And plans are always awesome to get blown up by unpredictable events. And dealing with kids, there are always unpredictable events. Always. It's the law.

"Hey."

The answer he gets is timid, soft, like Jensen's either scared of him or scared to wake Marcus up too.

He slowly walks towards the far corner to pick up another chair; the kids made it last year, he still remembers Larry getting a nail straight through his finger. That had been a mess of blood and tears and Mike nearly going bald. And he remembers after; how Larry threw the hammer into the bonfire they had that night. _Burn, baby burn_ , the kid had been yelling and hissing at his still tender finger. It had been a fun night and for a moment he thinks what this year's bonfire will bring.

He grips the chair and drags it to the other side of the bed, putting Marcus in the middle. If the kid should wake up, he'll see either him or Jensen and hopefully know that he's in a safe place.

When he sits down, he lets out a sigh, because damn but it feels good to sit. His back aches from sleeping in the chair, but the shower helped a bit.

"How's he doing?" he tilts his head to Marcus, while never moving his eyes from Jensen.

"Mike said he's okay. Just uh, shaken up. Upset. Scared. Mike gave him a pill, said he'll sleep through an earthquake."

Okay, that gives him even more time to track Gary down and have a word, before coming back to Marcus.

"And you?"

Jensen shrugs.

"You good?"

He watches Jensen touch the cut on his cheek; left open, to heal on the air.

"'m fine."

"Has Marcus said anything?"

"No, he just..." he lowers his voice, as if whatever he'll say next embarrasses him, "cried a bit."

Ah, yeah there it is. They haven't really talked much about what happened yesterday and during the night, and he thinks that they never will, because what more is there to say really? Sometimes, and he learned this the hard way too, there're really no words in the English language to say things that just _are_. He knows Jensen a bit more now, understands him a bit more, they connected on a level that he rarely connects with kids, especially in these short camps. He does connect, just not this deeply. For a kid like Jensen, with such a strong mind, only weakened by pills and other crap, to cry so openly, to trust so soon, is a rarity. It happens, but sometimes Jared just needs more time for it. Not just a week.

"Okay."

He leans back into the chair, letting the sun coming from the window dry his hair and put some heat on his back. It feels amazing, better than coffee.

They sit in silence for a bit, the melodies from the outside had stopped; apparently Mike took back the system and kicked Jamie out of Gen's office.

"'m sorry."

The whispered word is so gentle, that he isn't really sure he heard it and he still has some water in his ears from the shower so ... but he could guess what Jensen said, just by looking at him.

"For?"

"Yelling at you."

Jensen is talking down at his shoes, but that's okay. Sometimes it's easier that way, because shoes understand too. Sometimes better than people.

"'s okay."

"But I'm not sorry for what I did."

"I know."

"Gary deserved it."

Marcus snorts in his sleep and they both look up at his face, but nothing happens. He doesn't wake up. Sure it's a bit creepy watching someone sleep like this, especially a child, it just feels really wrong, but better this than letting the kid wake up alone and do something drastic with that loneliness.

"Jensen..."

Jensen's eyes, when he looks up at him, are so, so vivid, so, so green and full of fire, strength that he wishes some of that could magically be transferred onto Marcus. Just a pinch of that strength, determination, take no bullshit attitude, power, will to live.

"Jensen, I, uh," he clears his throat, "I meant what I said. Earlier. What you did, was right, but wrong. Just, next time come get someone, a counselor, okay, and don't," he can't believe he's about to say this, because he knows that Jensen's probably still alive because of this, but, "don't get into anymore fights."

He cringes. Damn. Jensen's ability to fight, to strike and punch and be fierce, is what kept him alive and sane for years and now forbidding him to do it ... feels so wrong.

"Here in camp. Uh, fights here in camp. You understand me?"

Jensen is smart, he understands what he means, because the smirk that goes along with a nod, tells him that yeah, Jensen understands.

"Good, then. We good, right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, why don't you go to your group now and I'll sit here for a while?"

"I ... okay. Sure."

He's confused as to why the hesitation, but maybe he gets it. Leaving the person you saved is like stretching an elastic band too thin. Until one day it snaps.

"You can come back later, visit him."

"Uh, sure."

He watches the kid get up from the chair, and walk out of the room with slumped shoulders, but his head is raised up high.

Sometimes there's just no winning anything. And it sickens him.

"So kiddo, just you and me now." he stretches his legs out, putting them under the bed, clasps his hands over his stomach and sinks into the warm sun, heating up his back.

-:-

He's dozing off, almost meditated himself to sleep when Mike returns and shakes him awake.

"Jared, hey wake up man."

"Dude, scared the crap out of me."

"Yeah well, sorry about that, but you know the rules, no sleeping on the job."

"Ha ha, funny," he sits up straighter and wipes the sleep from his eyes, "what time 's it?"

"Around eleven thirty, give or take."

The sun isn't heating his back anymore, which yeah. Marcus is still dead asleep on the bed, the kid hasn't even twitched a muscle.

"What did you give him?"

"Something to help him sleep. Totally safe, mild, even housewives use stronger pills, dude, chill. He was ... pretty upset and the pills wore off a long time ago, this is just natural sleep."

"Oh, okay."

Mike sinks down on the other chair and they both sit in silence for a while, listening to the birds and the kids and Marcus' breathing.

"Gen said to tell you thanks and that you're an asshole."

He chuckles. Yeah, he gets that a lot.

"She told ya?"

"She did," he sighs and rubs his left cheek, "that fucking fucker is still ... she'll never get rid of him. I just want to dig up his coffin, spit on him and burn him up, ya know?"

"Mike, she's never gonna forget, what he did to her, you don't forget that. Ever. All you can do is, brave through it, live the best you can and just ... lean on the support system you have."

"You and me, right buddy?"

"You and me."

"But still..."

"Mike I was there, I ... knew him, talked to him, he was a normal guy, funny, charming. Ya know? Gave me lemonade every time I was at Gen's."

"Creeps like him, usually are like that, huh?"

"Yeah."

"I, uh, I wish she'd talk to me more, man, ya know?"

"Don't wish that, Mike."

"But I do, and I don't think there's anythin' wrong with that."

"There isn't. Look, Mike, Gen and I, she talks to me, because I know, okay? I've seen it and she doesn't have to use a lot of words to make me understand. It's nothing personal. When she'll feel like it, she'll tell you more. Believe me. Its not that she doesn't trust ya or love ya, it's just that with me, right now, it's easier. Give her some time."

"She's had years, man."

"Years, man, years are like seconds in cases like these."

Mike huffs and looks away, towards the window, towards Gen's office.

"You'll take care of her, until..."

"Yeah, yeah, man, I will."

He will always take care of her, until the day one of them dies. He swore that to her, when he'd been holding her back from death waiting for the ambulance to arrive. He sat in her blood and promised that he will look after her forever, until one of them would die of old age. Sometimes he thinks she's only holding on because of that promise.

And now, having met Jensen, he wonders about what's holding Jensen alive. What is inside of him now, that doesn't make him wanna take another shot at killing himself. What has changed? And if it can last?

"Okay then, go find Gary. He's scrubbing the toilets in the boys bathroom."

"Dude, seriously?"

"Deadly."

"Wow, okay, isn't that a bit much?"

"He has to learn that it's not okay to say stuff like that to people."

"Uh, okay then, I'll go find him and uh, be back as soon as possible."

"We'll be here."

-:-

Gary's on his knees, swearing and grumbling, scrubbing a urinal with yellow, rubber gloves that reach up to his shoulders. The white brush in his hand isn't white anymore and the smell of lemon cleaner is so strong, Jared thinks his nose hair will burn off.

"Well Gary, look at you."

He crosses his arms at his chest and leans on the door frame.

Gary keeps on scrubbing the urinal, but the cusses stop.

"Leave me 'lone."

The attitude however stays.

"Gary, we need to talk."

"Don't wanna talk, just wanna do this and then leave."

"Well, tough. You start a fight, you have to carry the consequences, kid."

"Don't call me kid and I started nothin'. And this is punishment enough, I don't need to talk to you, too."

Well, okay, he knows that people sometimes find talking to him, as a shrink, not as a normal guy, difficult, but he never thought that some of them find it as bad as scrubbing urinals until they're squeaky clean.

"Okay, so then you didn't call Marcus a four eyed dweeb? Mentally challenged. And … other things."

He doesn't want to repeat what other things are. What Jensen said that Gary said, it's simply too nasty.

Silence.

"Gary."

"No, I didn't."

The smell of lemon is making him queasy, but he snorts at the quick reply.

"Now, why do I have a feeling you're lying?"

"Not."

He chuckles. He's not gonna start playing that game.

"Gary, look at me."

The kid keeps on scrubbing the already crystal clean urinal.

"Look at me."

"I don't wanna, 'cause I don't wanna talk. Just leave me 'lone."

"Look. At. Me."

He punctuates each word, making his voice deep and commanding, because soft and soothing just won't go down with this one.

The kid puts down the brush and turns around. His cuts are all cleaned up, he has a new shirt on, he looks like someone who went through a fight hours ago, but is okay now. The look in his eyes spells murder, though. He gets it. Why the kid doesn't want to talk to him and it's okay. He'd been the same when he'd been that age. He'd rather run away and hide than have to sit down and have a serious conversation with a grown up. Yeah, he gets it and he'd rather clean up every toilet from here to Timbuktu if that would save him from talking too. So he understands, but that doesn't mean he can just leave Gary alone. Leave him without at least trying to talk to him.

He slowly uncrosses his arms, doesn't want to look like that, because he needs to get through to this kid and with that particular posture, he isn't gonna get far. It already made him feel weird, using his commanding voice, as Mike described it a long time ago, because with kids, that volume of his voice, is always the hardest for him to use. But some respond better to it and if it works, he shouldn't feel so bad about it. Even if he does.

So he rather sits down on the floor, Indian style, the tiles cold under his ass, but he needs to get on the kid's level. Look him in the eyes and get his attention. Show him that he isn't dangerous and that the kid isn't in any kind of danger. And that he's here and won't go anywhere. Not until they at least try to have a civil conversation.

Sure, blocking the door with his body and thus sealing the only escape route for the kid, feels kinda childish, but damn it, sometimes...

"Sit down, Gary."

The kid plops to the floor with a huff, crosses his arms at his chest, blocking him out, blocking the world out and looks anywhere but at him. There's an angry pout on his lips and face muscles scrunched up into part anger and part annoyance, but well, tough.

"Good. Now, tell me what happened."

The kid lifts his crossed arms and lets them drop again; hitting his chest with his elbows and the expression of anger, frustration and annoyance just intensifies.

"Gary, come on, just tell me and then we can go have something to eat."

A huff.

"Look, just tell me and it will be like ripping off a band aid. Quick, efficient and with just a pinch of pain. And then we can go on our way."

A grumble. A twitch in the cheeks, lips relaxing from their pout, eyes sneaking closer and closer to his. And a sigh.

"Why? Why should I? No one wants to listen to me! No one ever listens to me!"

Anger. He can work with that.

"Well, _I_ am listening to you. You have my attention, so talk to me. I'll shut up, and you talk."

And so they sit in silence for minutes. Gary is chewing his lips and breathing hard, taking off his gloves and throwing them into a corner. He flinches, but says nothing. He said he'll be quiet and he will be. He has the patience, he has the whole day to just sit here and wait Gary out, and he knows that the kid doesn't.

"Marcus is a wimp. A blind wimp. I tried to talk to Nick about something and Marcus, the blind klutz that he is, tripped and fell and Nick was all over him."

He wants to say something, but no, he said he will be quiet and he will be.

"And then Nick said that Marcus will get the first shot with the bow, and I love the bow and I wanted to go first, but because Marcus tripped over his big feet he got it first. But I wanted it first and I wanted to tell Nick but he brushed me off and didn't even listen to me. It was all Marcus this and Marcus that."

The words he wants to say are itching him so badly, he scratches his knee, but no, he's not going to say anything. This isn't about him, it's about Gary.

"You ain't gonna say anything? What kinda shrink are you?"

He shrugs: "Like I said, 'm here and 'm listening, so until you'll talk, I'll listen."

The kid scowls, but continues: "Then Nick went to get the arrow that Marcus shot into a tree and I ..."

The arrows are fake, nothing that could do any harm, but words, words hurt more than an arrow shot straight through the heart.

" ... I called Marcus all that, okay. I did it, okay! He's a moron, he is, he doesn't belong here! Stop looking at me like that! Stop it!"

He remains silent, but he's under no circumstances going to remove his eyes from Gary's. Now that he finally has them locked with his, he won't look away. He needs to see beyond the anger that's consuming Gary and look for ...

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

... there, apology. Sure, it's directed at the wrong person, but the anger fades into knowledge that what happened had been wrong. He knows the _sorry_ stings the kid like knives being pushed through his brain, but it's the first step.

"Gary, its not me you should be apologizing to, you know that, right?"

The kid nods, tears gathering in his eyes and he wipes them away with the backs of his hands.

"Okay then. Can I trust you, to never do that again? Call people names?"

The kid sniffles and wipes his nose in his sleeve.

"I don't know."

The trouble, or well, the good thing about kids is that they are honest. Truthful, even if they cause pain and scars.

"Fair enough."

Gary nods.

"Finish things here and come to Mike's. You should talk to Marcus when he wakes up."

"He okay?"

"I don't know, but I think he's been better."

And the trouble, or well the good thing about him is that he doesn't lie to kids. They respect that, because they get enough bullshit from everyone around them, and a little honesty goes a long way with them.

"Okay, I will. Will … are you gonna be there too?"

That surprises him, but then again, the question feels honest. And that, makes a plan form in his brain.

"I'll wait for you, if that's what you want."

He'll wait and see if his plan will work or not. But for all of their sakes, it better, or else ...

"Yeah."

"Okay, take your time."

-:-

He leaves the kid to scrub the last urinal and walks back to Mike's in silence. There's no music now. There are just the usual camp noises and birds. He walks by a sign kids made years ago, black words painted on some wooden planks, naming the camp. And then some kid wrote _for special kids_ on it and huh, no one ever tried to fix that. Erase it. But then again, these are special kids. Gen probably found it cute and left it be and if she's okay with it, then no one will argue with it.

He smiles.

Special kids. Yeah, he can deal with that.

                                                                                                                 

-:-

It's beginning to get really hot; he's sweating by the time he steps into Mike's cabin.

"Dude, its freaking hot outside."

"'s freaking hot inside too. And Marcus is awake. He's been asking about Jensen."

"Was he now?"

"You should nip this in the butt, man. I don't think them getting attached like this is a good thing."

"Or maybe it is a good thing."

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

"I know what I'm doing, trust me already."

"I do."

He has his doubts about that, but sometimes it's kinda awesome to play with Mike's heart like this. Makes the muscle stronger if it gets a bit of shocks now and then, or so they say. But other times, it would really be good if Mike would just trust him already. Because he's not stupid. Of course Jensen and Marcus can't become dependent on each other, or worse Marcus dependent on Jensen, that would be bad, that would be so bad, there are no words. So, the plan he formulated and perfected in his mind on his walk here, better work. It has to work. Needs to.

"Good. Oh and when Gary gets here, sent him to the room. Don't ask, just do it."

"Aye, aye captain."

"You're really not funny."

"You hurt me. Doesn't the shrink code say don't emotionally scar anyone?"

"Dude!"

"No witty comeback?"

"Not in front of the kids, no."

Mike's laughter follows him down the hallway to Marcus.

-:-

He finds Jamie walking down the hallway, but this time they don't crash like a horrible car accident.

"Jamie, hey DJ."

"You liked?"

"They were interesting song choices."

"Had to have something that was louder than Gen's snoring. That chick can saw logs, man."

"I know, slept in the same bed as her more than once and always regretted it."

Jamie's laughter is so carefree and loud he can't not join her.

"Whatcha doing here anyway?"

"Mike dragged me here to keep an eye on Marcus and then I heard you two talking so I figured my shift is over and you can go watch over the kid."

"Yup, on my way."

"Good, good, well see you at lunch."

"I hope."

He's hungry. Breakfast, oh wait, he didn't have any breakfast. He needs food so badly, but first, Marcus.

**The End (more soon)**

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I'm not totally happy with this chapter, but it's the best I can do. I can't do better, even if I'm not happy with it. And I hate this feeling! And I wanna say THANK YOU to everyone who is reading this, if you comment or not, because this is a very very difficult story to write. There's just so many emotions and images and feelings and ... it's really hard to get into this mind set and then come out of it. I'm 3 stories ahead of this one, and uh ... yeah, it's really hard.


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